The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1887-08-16

have watched them billing and cooling
up there over the blue Hudson like a
pair of robins without feeling happy
kind of envy, mixed with a protest
against the DEGREES of fate for having
concentrated all human happiness in
one pair.
Lou, as he called her, was literally a
radiant woman. Her pale beauty was
of that beamy order that emits an
aureole. You never could quite direst
| Yourself of the notion that a lambert,
psychic light fell on things when she
looked at them. She was, | suppose,
that perfect e4uipoiSe of gentleness and
sweetness and tenderness that the
poets have found no other name for
| than woman.
Mrs. Sherman. who used to drive up
there from the Clock Tower House,
called her an ''alabaster lamp" /
stood there on the grsveled path one
afternoon admlring the bush ilacs that
hung drowsy in their own perfume in
great masses round the porch, and she
came and put her bright face through
them to see who it was. She lit the
scene in an instant. After all, flowers
and sunshine itself were only frames
for that face. remember the shade of
disappointment that crossed it. She
thought Binninger had come.
Such women pierce every man with
| tiny darts M ade of his own unworthi-
ness.
| But the aerolite. Yes Well, listen.
Do you recall the 29th of May, 18S-?
Let me remind you of two things that
| occurred i'm New York. In the first
place we had one of those unreasonable
hot spells that sometimes visit us fol
two or three days in the spring. Peo-
pie fell down i'm the streets, struck by
the sun as with bludgeon. Then
there was a kind of incipient riot ur
town, caused by strike of railroad
! men.
Il was Friday morning. The shad-
ows of the lilacS were dancing across
the white cloth on the breakfast table
in Binninger's cottage. A bobolink
was pouring out a bravura air exult-
ingly on the rail of the porch. You
could hear the stroke of steamers
paddles on the river below. Every
thing at this early hour was dewy and
cool and musical.
Binninger sat there at the table,
drinking his coffee and trying to look
at the morning paper at tie same time.
Lou sat opposite at the same table,
dreamily watching him.
In high chair. rather prematurely,
was the curly-headed Binninger, try
ing to hit the dancing shadows with
spoon.
Jack" said Mrs. Binninger, with
q pause. And Jack threw down the
paper, and with his coffee-cup in his
hand regarded her with concentrated
admiration and tenderness.
'Tm going to the city to-day"
"Ha. har he cried. "'Pon my
word, believe you are afraid to tell
me what you want"
mo, no." she replied, quickly, 81
don't want any thing; it's not that"
"Isn't it,"
'No, no. must go down to the
dressmaker's, and I've some shopping
to do. But can't wait and come back
with you. must hurry home by two
o'clock. You'll not mind, will you?"
"Yes, L shall mind" he said. ITO
know YOU are coming, and into that
dingy old Office at four o'clock. makes
the whole day light. Must you go?"
al really must. want my dress for
Sunday, and there's lots of other
things"
"Well," he said, getting up and look
ing at his watch, "by Jove, I've only
got seven minutes to catch that train.
Goodbye, Bobblesr' And he kissed the
curly-headed boy, put his arms round
his wife, seized his hat, stood there at
the door a moment and came back and
kissed her again.
Jack" said she, eff you don't think
ought to go"
my dear, if You must 60, don't be
foolish and tire yourself out running
all over town, and don't, on your life,
fail to be here when l come back.
Goodbye. I've got to run for it. There's
the whistler
He got as far as the little gate. Some
thing seemed to call him back. 1t was
an indistinct impulse that made him
turn. The bobolink was calling on the
rail. He heard Boobies voice in the
breakfast-rOom. The bright morning
was full of inarticulate voices. But he
did not understand them, and a mo-
ment later he was running down the
hill to the train with happy heart.
Could he have interpreted the voices
/ think this is what they said: